Olivia strolled to the fire and tossed the note into the low flame. As the parchment ignited, so to did her curiosity. She tossed open her amour and fished inside for a gown. Just this once, she told herself. Pulling out a plain pink frock, she turned to pull the call bell, then changed her mind.
She aimed to appear unladylike. To convince the duke that she wasn’t a fit role model for his sisters. Perhaps going to him in her wrapper would sway his opinion of her merits as a mother figure and societal guide. Her cheeks warmed at the scandalous idea.
Ignoring the rapid thumping of her heart, Olivia pulled on her wrapper and fastened it. She cracked her bedchamber door and peered into the hallway. All was quiet. No-one was about, and the passageway was dark save for a few flickering lamps.
She pushed the door open fully then stepped from her room. Her pulse hammered as she made her way to the library. Twice she contemplated turning back but ultimately continued on her way. By the time she reached the library, her cheeks blazed, and her breaths came in quick succession.
Olivia rested her hand on the library door as she willed her body to calm down. Perhaps she should return to her chamber? Surely whatever he wanted could wait for a more appropriate time. At the least, she should go change into proper attire.
Before she could move, the door opened, causing her to jump and tug her hand back.
William stood before her, a wide grin lighting his face. “Do come in.”
The time to flee had passed. Olivia swallowed back her objections, squared her shoulders, and marched past him. There was nothing for it now. She would have to remain on her course.
The door clicked shut behind her. Olivia pivoted to face the duke, her hands on her hips. “What is the meaning of this?”
He strode over to her, then indicated two chairs across from the hearth. “Join me?”
“I would rather not.”
“Why?”
Her eyes widened as she stared at him in shock. “It is quite late, Your Grace. Meeting in such a way is beyond the pale.”
“Call me, William.”
Olivia had no desire to address him in such an informal way, but more than that, she wanted to know what the purpose of this meeting was. To that end, she gave in. “Very well, William,” she ground out his name. “Tell me why you have summoned me?”
“Sit, and then I shall.” He lowered himself into one of the chairs then stretched his long legs out in front of him.
Olivia could scarcely stop herself from studying the length of his muscular body. His breeches clung to his thighs and calves, revealing the corded muscles beneath. His waistcoat was unbuttoned, and cravat loosened, giving her a splendid view as well. Mercy, but he was an attractive man.
He locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back in the chair.
The dratted man clearly intended to wait until she did as he wished. Olivia released a breath and took the chair beside him. “You have my attention.”
The duke sat up and turned his attention to her, though his form remained relaxed like that of a giant cat basking in the suns warmth. Olivia wished she shared a measure of his calmness for her heart was still beating a tattoo.
He trailed his lazy gaze over her, then met her eyes. “I’m glad you came.”
She’d expected to find horror, or at the very least, distaste in his gaze. Instead, she saw something else. Something pleasant. Perhaps admiration or appreciation? Did the scoundrel approve of her attire? She averted her gaze to the fire, her cheeks burning just as hot as the flames.
His Grace waited for a few heartbeats before he spoke again. Perhaps he’d been waiting for her to say something. Regardless, Olivia had no words. She hadn’t been the one to request this meeting. Didn’t even know why they were here. It was he who needed to do the talking.
“I have done you a great wrong. Now I intend to make it up to you, Olivia.”
She turned her attention back to him, hope blooming in her breast. “Then you plan to beg off? Free me from the betrothal?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I plan to woo you as I should have all those years ago.”
Her optimism crumbled like ash in the hearth. The devil had no intention of setting her free. Anger erased all of her prior unease, and she stiffened, her gaze boring into his. “All of the wooing in the world will not change my mind.”
“You are angry, and you have every right to be, but we will be wed. Why not allow me the opportunity to win your heart?”
Because I shall never have yours. The words drifted through Olivia’s mind but did not roll off her tongue. Instead, she said, “Because I have no wish to marry.”
“If you are so confident in your conviction, then I see no harm in your allowing me the opportunity to change your mind.” He reached for her hand, wrapped his long fingers around her palm. “We are betrothed. Your parents expect us to spend time together. Let us not do so as enemies.”
Olivia nibbled at her lower lip, turning his words over in her mind. Perhaps she could bargain with him? At the least, she could use their time to her advantage. Take every opportunity to change his stance. She swallowed, her eyes drifting closed for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “Friends then?”
He smiled as he rubbed his fingers over her hand. “For the time being.”
Olivia’s skin tingled and warmed beneath his. “And what if I still have no wish to marry when the day arrives?”
“Let us face that challenge when, and if, it comes to pass.”
She nearly groaned in frustration as she pulled her hand free of his. The man was impossible, and he seemed just as determined as her.
A shiver of foreboding trickled through her as she realized that she was coming to enjoy his attention and determination. A small part of her was looking forward to being wooed by him. For she enjoyed verbally sparring with him and longed for his attention when they were apart.
What the devil was wrong with her?
She needed to return to her bedchamber. Had to clear her mind. “It’s rather late. I’ll bid you goodnight now.”
He captured her hand, bent over it, and dropped a kiss to her bare knuckles. “Until tomorrow.”
Olivia’s stomach fluttered as she turned and sped from the room.
Chapter 7
Olivia folded her hands in her lap and turned to Juliet. “His Grace is determined to court me and putting on a rather good show of it.”
“That is splendid news.” Juliet waved her fan. “Perhaps he has developed a tender for you?”
Olivia shook her head. “It is nothing more than a way for him to assuage his guilt.”
“How so?” Emma asked.
Olivia turned her attention to the cream and pale yellow wallpaper, trailing her gaze along a sunny yellow swirl as she gathered her thoughts. “He told me that he owes me for all the years that he ignored our betrothal.”
The corner of Emma’s mouth tilted upward. “That is fantastic. He’s taking responsibility and demonstrating the type of husband he intends to be.”
Olivia arched a brow. “And what kind would that be? The type to stash his wife away on some distant estate and forget about her?”
“Nonsense.” Emma swirled her wrist, her fingers waving in a dismissive arch. “He’d be the type to care about your feelings.”
“How wonderful.” Juliet stopped fanning herself, a wide grin lighting her face. “Don’t you see what this means? He cares for you.”
“He most certainly does not,” Olivia said.
Juliet lowered her fan to her lap, her grin remaining firmly in place. “Tell us what he has been doing to woo you? Then we shall decide.”
Olivia sighed, her shoulders slumping a fraction. As if her friends could determine the duke’s true nature. All the same, she would humor them. “Very well. He slips letters beneath my door. Invitations to join him for walks, picnics, and such. New letters appear on a regular bases, sometimes twice in the same day, and each note contained one sentence followed by his initial. Sometimes he
leaves a small trinket or flower in the hall just beyond my door.”
“How romantic,” Juliet said, excitement in her voice.
Olivia shook her head, a rogue curl tickled her cheek, and she pushed it back. “Not at all. I assure you that his actions are merely self-serving.” Her mind traveled back to the picnic they had shared two days prior and the words he’d spoken.
The Duke and Olivia had been in the garden beneath a towering shade tree. They’d talked of their childhoods while enjoying sandwiches and fruit. Once they’d had their fill, he’d reclined on the blanket propping his head on one hand.
Olivia had been searching her mind for something unladylike to do when all of a sudden bird droppings splatted on his trousers.
His gaze went to the white and grey, slimy pile on his trousers then back to her. To the duke’s credit, he did not seem too upset by the event. His mouth quirked then he looked back to the pile of droppings. “It seems I have been assaulted.”
Olivia burst into laughter at his reaction. Unable to contain herself, she continued laughing as she scrambled in the basket for a napkin. Her laughter was so jubilant that she could not cease long enough to speak. Instead, she held the cloth out to him while covering her open mouth with her other hand.
The duke wiped the mess away before pinning her with his stern gaze. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked, the playfulness in his blue gaze giving him away.
She only laughed harder.
He gave her a wide grin, then shook his head.
Olivia managed to find her voice long enough to reply. “Very much, indeed.”
His smile gave way to a chuckle, and he said, “Had I known that something so trivial would bring you such joy I would have arranged for it sooner.”
Olivia sobered. “You would willingly allow a bird to poop on you?”
“If it brought a smile to your beautiful lips, I most certainly would.” His gaze moved to her mouth, his eyes darkening as he stared.
Heat infused her, spreading from her cheeks to fan through the rest of her body as he stared at her. She darted her tongue out, wetting her suddenly dry lips. The things he said to her—the way he looked at her was most unsettling. Not because she didn’t like his attention, but because she was coming to cherish it.
She sighed, all merriment leaving her as serious thoughts gathered in her mind. Dare she allow herself to hope for a future with him? Perhaps if there was a chance at happiness, she should at least entertain the notion. Olivia averted her gaze to a nearby shrub, then asked, “Have you ever loved?”
“No. Love has never been an option for me,” all jubilation was gone from his voice.
She turned back to find his smile replaced by the firm set of his jaw and straight line of his lips. “Why not?”
He rolled onto his back, placing his hands behind his head to stare up at the passing clouds. “Our marriage has been arranged since we were children. My path was chosen for me.”
Her shoulders slumped, sadness creeping into her heart. Of course, Olivia had already known. The same was true for her, but she still believed in love. Experienced it even. Not the romantic kind, but love for her family and friends.
That afternoon, Olivia returned to her bedchamber more determined than ever to avoid a lifetime as his duchess. She’d grown fond of their game, and the time they spent together was pleasant, but she’d not sentence herself to a lifetime with a man who could not love her.
The memory and sorrow it brought weighed on her as she turned her attention back to Juliet. “He told me that he has never loved anyone.”
Juliet screwed up her lips in distaste.
Emma met Olivia’s eyes and gave a tender look. “How unfortunate. But it hardly signifies.”
“How can you say that?” Juliet blurted, her eyes wide. “Love is everything.”
Emma shook her head. “I simply mean that not having loved doesn’t mean that he can’t. It only means that he hasn’t.” She turned to Olivia. “Give him a chance. Perhaps he will come to love you.”
“I dare say he won’t.” Olivia opened her fan and began waving it. “He resents me, you see.”
“On what grounds?” Emma asked.
Olivia swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. “He has never had the option to love because he has always been promised to me. He said so himself.”
Juliet gasped. “How unfair. You did not make the arrangement. If anyone should be resented, it is your parents…yours and his.”
“There you have it.” Emma pointed one finger toward Olivia. “He said that he has never had the option because he has always been promised to you.”
Juliet cocked her head to one side, her eyes narrowed in speculation. “What are you getting at, Emma?”
Emma glanced between Juliet and Olivia before settling her gaze on Olivia. “Don’t you see, he was speaking of romantic love.”
“I fear I don’t understand your point,” Olivia said.
Emma gave a slow smile. “My point is that he does have a heart. If he did not, he wouldn’t care what you wanted, and he would not feel bad for neglecting is obligation to you.”
“Oh, no,” Olivia shook her head, “if he cared what I wanted, he would call off and take his leave.”
Juliet folded her hands, a faraway look coming over her. “I think it is romantic that he insists on staying and fighting for you.”
“Poppycock.” Olivia shook her head in frustration. “He is staying for his own purpose. It is as I told you before; he requires a mother figure for his sisters. I am convenient. There is nothing more to his motivations.”
“But what if you are wrong?” Juliet asked.
Olivia notched her chin up. “That is a chance I’m willing to take.”
“I do wish you would reconsider,” Emma frowned, “But as you are determined to continue with this…this nonsense, tell us what you have done so far to dissuade him?”
Folly. Olivia drew her brow together as Madame Zeta’s fortune played through her memory. Surely she was following the correct course. Doing as she should according to her fortune. Yes, indeed she was, and she would remain steadfast. She smiled at her friends, feeling a new sense of relief at the realization.
She relaxed back against the chair and laid her fan across her lap. “I have engaged in all sorts of unladylike behavior.” Olivia paused to smile. “I have bared my ankles while running through a field. Danced in the rain, neglected to wear gloves, and spoke of learned things while expressing my opinions. I’ve ridden astride in breeches several times, and allowed my posture to sag and slouch on occasion. Honestly, I’m out of ideas.”
Olivia massaged her temple. “I’m beginning to think that nothing I do will convince him to beg off.”
“You must try foul language.” Juliet tapped a finger to her chin. “Oh, and maybe a bawdy joke.”
“Please tell me that neither of you knows bawdy jokes?” Emma pressed her lips into a tight line as she studied Juliet and Olivia.
“Of course not.” The pair said in unison.
Juliet added, “Though I am sure we could learn one or two.”
“Absolutely not.” Emma shook her head. “That is going too far. We don’t want Olivia to be branded as a strumpet.”
“Of course not.” Juliet shook her head.
Olivia leaned forward. “You do realize that I am still in the room, right?” She arched one eyebrow, questioning.
“Yes, of course.” Emma grinned.
“By the by, nothing I’ve done has seemed to bother His Grace in the least. I do believe I will try cussing. Perhaps a bloody hell will get a rise from him.”
“I dare say it should.” Emma gave a firm nod.
Juliet placed one hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.
All Olivia could do was hope that Emma was right. More than a week had passed and true to his word, the duke was courting her. More than that, he was doing his best to woo her, and much to her dismay, he was making progress. Every time a letter or trinket arri
ved, her heart fluttered. Her excitement bloomed with anticipation, and when he said something scandalous or sweet, her knees weakened.
She would be a fool to think herself safe from his charm, and she was no fool. Olivia had to get rid of the duke sooner rather than later.
Today, she would embrace folly to the full extent.
Chapter 8
William stood in the entry with his hands clasped behind his back as he waited for Olivia. He’d sent her a note this morning requesting that she join him for a carriage ride. Anticipation flowed through him as he wondered what she might do today. The woman had proved herself quite capable of mischief over the past couple of weeks, and he had to admit that he found her antics endearing. It was as though he had a secret version of her. An Olivia that was just for him.
She crested the stairs clad in a blue velvet gown, and his breath caught at her beauty. The lady was stunning with her hair pulled back at the temples and flowing down her back. Her amber eyes sparkling as the copper fleck’s caught the light and reflected it back. Olivia had the regal look of a queen and the wanton appeal of a goddess. The combination was more than enough to drive any man mad.
He could scarcely countenance that no other man had swept her out from under him, but he was eternally grateful for their oversight. Olivia was an original, a lady of her own mold, and he was damn lucky to have her. He strode closer to the staircase as she neared the bottom and proffered his arm.
“Good afternoon, beauty.” He winked then reveled in her deep blush.
She took his arm before meeting his gaze. “Indeed.”
William grinned. “Would you prefer to do something other than taking a ride in the curricle?” He asked as he led her across the porch. Brazenly taking a loose curl into his hand, he leaned close. “I fear the wind will ruin your appearance.”
It had not escaped his notice that she did not wear a bonnet. Nor had he failed to notice the absence of a proper traveling dress. By days end, she would be speckled from the sun, and her coppery hair would be a mass of knots.
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